Lost in translation

My partner is currently in Guangzhou, China exploring business opportunities so I've rather fortuitously been afforded the opportunity to come out and visit. 5-star hotel stay in a sprawling urban metropolis. Solo exploration during the day, social time in the evening. Think Scarlett Johansson minus douche bag, self-obsessed husband and friendship/romance with Bill Murray. Oh and less the existential crisis. Here I am doing my best Lost in translation re-enactment:

We're staying in the architectural splendour of the Langham Place Hotel, which resembles wonky Jenga on the outside and features trippy optical illusion balcony walkways on the inside. Hitherto my experiences of luxury accommodation have been scarce to non-existent so I'm the veritable kid in a candy store. The dubious stenches, questionable cleaning practices and 'interesting' interior design choices that I've come to accept as my holiday lot are nowhere to be seen. Instead you get your ice bucket filled up every night and a plate of delicious macaroons delivered to your room at weekends. And the breakfast is MEGA. I've had to admit defeat in my quest to sample every single item, every single day.

Whilst my attempts at urban excursion have been somewhat lost in translation, my lack of Mandarin makes for an often bewildering experience and Google Maps and Translate are keenly felt absentees, I have successfully navigated the shops, purchasing a rather fetching rose-printed t-shirt and a pair of shorts that were too big for Andrew (the intended recipient) but perfect fit for me (the ever obliging back up). In the sale of course. Turns out 'sale' transcends all languages. No translation necessary. Suntory to that!